Garden of May

*T/N: I mistakenly uploaded C95 & 96 as C93 & 94 but it’s fixed now. Apologies!

The man’s focused gaze was like molten steel. It wasn’t the intensity itself, but the awareness of being observed, down to the smallest twitch, that made Vanessa tense. Heat bloomed on her skin wherever his eyes lingered. They traced her nose, lips, the soft curve of her jaw, rising to her forehead before dipping lower—to the delicate line of her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her br*asts visible beneath the loose robe, her n*****s taut, the smooth plane of her stomach, and lower still….

Vanessa swallowed. She wanted to break the taut silence, but the moment she met his blue eyes, looking at her as if through the paper he sketched on, her breath caught. It felt like a dream. The faint warmth from the fireplace, the dust motes dancing in the air, the scratch of charcoal on paper, the man in his shirtsleeves, the movement of his supple, strong arms and hands.

Each time she tilted her head, the light shifted, painting soft shadows across his sculpted face. She inhaled a shaky breath, and then, suddenly, he smiled.

“Relax.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Just keep talking.”

“Talking?”

“About anything.”

She blinked, unsure where to begin. River Ross, sensing her hesitation, offered a prompt.

“Some of the sailors believe in sirens.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that. Especially the fishermen up north. They truly believe in those monsters. They say they appear most often as winter turns to spring.”

Countless tales of sirens had been passed down through generations, but Vanessa hadn’t even fully believed her own mother’s stories. Legends were just superstitions. Ships probably struck melting ice floes or unseen reefs shrouded in fog….

“Those stories are probably just meant to scare sailors. There are a lot of shipwrecks that time of year.”

“Yes. They say the sirens lure sailors to their doom, drag them down to their nests, and use their bodies to breed more monsters.”

“Feeding on human flesh and blood…. Some people think it’s a metaphor for s*x.”

“Most sailors believe it literally. They say those who are seduced by the sirens don’t even realize it until the monster’s lips are on theirs.”

“River, do you believe in them?”

“I don’t believe in anything I haven’t seen with my own eyes. And try not to smile so much, Vanessa.”

“Right.”

She composed her features, the amusement fading as she realized why he didn’t believe in gods. It was a perfectly ‘River Ross’ reason. Her cheeks flushed, she forced herself to meet his gaze. She loved watching him when he was absorbed in his work. His strong fingers smudged the charcoal, his hand moving with swift precision, adding detail. His elegant face was subtly flushed with concentration.

Sometimes, just these quiet moments were enough. Doing nothing at all felt fulfilling. Just being in the same space, sharing the same flow of time, filled her with a sense of contentment. Finally, he looked up.

“Here. Take a look.”

“You’re already finished?”

Vanessa rose from the bed and went to his side. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she took the paper from him. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the drawing.

It was a woman, her torso leaning against a wave-washed rock. Her eyes, fixed on some distant point, seemed innocent and clear, but her fingernails, gripping the stone, were sharp as blades. Scales covered her lower body, and beneath the surface of the water, her tail flickered—long and translucent, like a fish’s, not a human’s. Like a mermaid from legend.

“I love it….”

Vanessa stared at the drawing in wonder. It was her face, but not quite. The creature in the drawing was both gentle and fierce, innocent and elegant. She was certain that if those closed lips parted, sharp teeth would be revealed.

“I’m glad you like it.”